“Miles,” I protested, but the word turned into a needy moan the second his hands made contact with my body.
I was desperate for this, desperate for him. I needed him so badly my whole body pounded with the need to feel him inside me again. I wanted nothing else but to submit to him completely, do everything he asked of me, kneel for him, crawl for him.
“Please,” I begged as he tore into my clothes savagely. “Miles, please… Don’t fucking stop.”
He let out a low growl as he worked my body into a position he liked better, my ass against his crotch and my arms shivering as he held them above my head, pulling off my top and tugging my pants down until I was fully exposed to him. He got rid of my underwear by practically ripping it off me, and I mewled when the cold air hit my skin.
Then, he was tearing at his own clothes, desperate to get naked and join me. I stared at him, once again relishing in the beauty of his body, which was almost heart-breaking. He was a monster of a man, so fucking tall and strong, and it hurt to think of all the things he’d been through in his life. I wanted to personally hurt whoever was responsible for the shit he had to deal with on a daily basis.
“Touch me,” I begged him, and he was on me in seconds, pushing me against the wall, my body helpless to his whims.
He raised my arms above my head again, pinning them above me as his mouth assaulted my throat, sucking at it as if he were trying to suck my damn soul out. His free hand was between my legs, his thick fingers roughly pushing into my pussy, fucking it into a state. I was dripping wet and ready, my mouth spitting words in a frenzy I was so desperate to have him hurt me more.
“More,” I told him hungrily. “More, I want more.”
And then he dragged me to the window and I was pressed up against it, my naked body on full display for anyone below on the street. It reminded me of the first time I’d seen him, and I found myself gloating, knowing I’d taken the previous girl’s spot.
“Are you sure?” he asked roughly, and I nodded over and over again, desperate for him, desperate to have every bit of cruelty he had to offer.
“Hurt me,” I begged him. “Fuck me hard and fucking hurt me.”
In seconds, he’d pulled me to the next window. The one that was open, the breeze cold on my skin. I tried to shriek, but Miles slapped a palm over my mouth, holding me firmly in place.
“Don’t scream,” he ordered me, and I swallowed my fear as he held me out of the window, one hand over my mouth, the other in my hair.
The street was so far below me, but I didn’t feel afraid. I let him have me completely and gave up every last vestige of control, packed it up all pretty, wrapped a bow around it and placed it in his care.
My eyes widened as I took in the street, my tits hanging heavily above it. This was it. This was the moment of madness I’d been waiting for.
I felt his cock entering me, the pure pleasure making me cry out for him. My hips bumped against the windowsill as he started to fuck me, relentlessly and showing absolutely no mercy for my poor flailing body.
Coming wasn’t a decision, there was no option to back out of it. He fucked me so hard I was squirting over his cock in seconds, drenching him in my juices and begging helplessly for more as he dragged my hair back, making me look at the street, at my own apartment across from it, at everything I was willing to let go of so I could have my Miles.
His cock was punishing me, stabbing me so savagely I howled from the pain and pleasure combined. He fucked me like I was his property, and I fucking loved it.
I hoped he would never stop. His rough fingers were pulling my hair so tight I felt tears in my eyes, pricking and stinging and hurting me as he drove into my cunt again and again. And I couldn’t get enough. Hooked on the feeling, the sensation, hooked on the way I felt every vein on his cock throb against the walls of my pussy as he took what he wanted.
My skin was covered in goosebumps, partly from the fear and partly from hanging out of the window, but I didn’t give a sweet shit. I barely even noticed. All that mattered was this moment, where I belonged to him completely, and where I placed every last hope in his hands, letting him do whatever the fuck he wanted to with me—body, mind, and soul.
And right now, he was deciding to fuck it. Fuck it until I screamed for mercy but kept coming on his cock like a brazen whore, too far gone to stop myself and too drunk on my love for him to even want to try. I was an addict, and he was serving up exactly what I wanted, what I needed. I’d never have enough of him, of this.
“Come inside me,” I begged him. “Fucking come inside me, right now.”
“Fucking take it,” he told me roughly. “You’re going to take all of it, aren’t you sugar?”
He turned me around in seconds, his cock slipping out and I mewled at the loss of him. Now, I was hanging outside as he held onto my waist, and he lowered me even farther out the window. I was terrified, my blood pumping, my heart and head screaming both from the fear and the pleasure. I never felt as free as I did in that moment, being completely dependent on him and reliant on his mercy.
“Do it,” I said for the last time, but this time, the tip of his cock nudged at my asshole.
My eyes widened, and I whimpered, but he ignored it. He spat in his palm and lubed his cock for me, and then he was pushing inside, slowly, painfully slowly, but so relentlessly I knew he would be fully inside me in seconds.
I felt myself fighting him, felt the burn as my asshole tried to push him out, and he touched his fingers to my lips gently, giving me a crooked smile.
“Let it happen, sugar,” he whispered. “Let it happen for me.”
I exhaled, and he slipped inside me, making me gasp as he lowered me above the ground. I was terrified, so scared I was breaking out in a sweat. I looked into his eyes, feeling the absolute madness of the moment. Then, I threw my head back and laughed.
I laughed for him, for us, and for Posy. Because I was still here and damnit, I was going to live my life until the very last moment and enjoy every fucking second of it. I was going to love it, and make it worth it for every other person that didn’t get to live theirs.
Miles chuckled and grabbed my tit, his other hand firmly supporting my back so I wouldn’t fall. He drove into me one last time and it was enough. He grunted and came inside my ass, came so much I felt it spurting out of me as he kept fucking. I groaned for him and let go, letting my hands fall down and dangle above the ground.
“You’re so fucking incredibly beautiful,” Miles told me, letting me enjoy that special moment. “This is… it’s incredible. I’m in love with you, sugar. I’m so fucking in love with you.”
I opened my eyes slightly and blew him a kiss.
Toujours, French
Always.
My nerves were getting the better of me.
I was breathing shallow, panicked breaths, my back pressed against the wall and my sweaty palms brushing against the metal of the coat rail. At least no one would find me here. At least people would think I didn’t even show.
The doors opened a sliver, and my heartbeat quickened when I heard approaching footsteps. And then she was standing in front of me, a big bright smile on her lips and a cheeky expression in her eyes.
“There you are,” she said, and I smiled guiltily at her. “Come on, I’ll make sure everything’s okay. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”
“Promise?” I asked her shakily, and she nodded, a smile tugging up the corners of her lips. “Promise me, Bebe.”
“Promise,” she nodded. “I promise it will be okay. Now, will you come out with me?”
I gave a slight nod of my head, and my hand found hers in the cloakroom. It was dark and stuffy in there, but it was less frightening than the gallery outside, where people were waiting to meet me.
Bebe held my hand firmly but gently, and she tugged me out of the corner I’d gotten myself into.
“Come on,” she said gently. “I’ll be here every step of the way. You know I will. Have I ever let you down?”<
br />
I thought of the past few months. Of my girl by my side through doctor appointments, through meeting Dr. Halen in her office every week. I thought of her showing me all her favorite places in the city, and how patient she’d been when I broke down in the middle of a bookstore. How she’d helped me, taken care of me, how she’d made sure I was alright. And I knew I trusted her more than I’d trusted anyone else before. I was willing to put my life in her hands if it came down to that.
“No,” I replied simply, a small grin on my face. “I trust you. Let’s go.”
She pulled me out of the cloakroom, and the light in the gallery was blinding, making me shield my eyes. But then I heard it, as we made our way front and center of the room. The applause. It was so fucking loud.
I looked up, my eyes focusing on the people around me.
The gallery was beautiful, modern and sleek, in monochromatic tones that ensured that the art stood out, not the furniture or the interior design of the room. It was a clean, open space and I loved it. It reminded me of my apartment in many ways.
There were countless people in the room, and as Bebe led me to the stage, I glanced at everyone in there. Men and women, of all sizes and colors and beautiful fucking shapes. I would have been uncomfortable as fuck in this room a few months ago. In fact, I would probably never have come there. But now, with Bebe by my side, a surprised smile lit up my face. Maybe this was where I was meant to be after all.
She didn’t stop until we reached the podium, and she handed me a microphone with a bright smile. She was wearing a tight little red dress with a flounce at the bottom, and black velvet heels. She looked so fucking stunning I wanted to make her drop down and spread her legs for me, so I could suck on her sweetness like a damn lollipop. I was head over heels in love with the girl. She awoke emotions inside me I didn’t even know I was capable of. She was incredible, incredible, incredible. And I loved her with every cell in my body.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Bebe said into her own microphone. “Miles Reilly!”
Once again, applause. And this time it was deafening.
I looked into their eyes, their expectant smiles edging me on. And for once I didn’t see demons, or monsters, or men out to get me. I saw the people, the stories, the personalities I was so desperate to catch in my own work. And I loved it.
I smiled wide and waved at the crowd and they cheered.
“I don’t know what to s-say,” I said shakily, my hand forming a fist.
This was hard. Fucking hard.
And then she was next to me, just like that, her hand wrapping around my own and her encouraging smile meant only for me. I fell in love again, every time I saw that sparkle in her eyes.
“I’m lucky enough to have my muse standing next to me,” I said, my eyes now only on hers, as if I was speaking to her the way I usually did when we were home alone. Her legs on my lap, chucking popcorn in my face as we watched a movie. Parting those legs to let me see her tight, wet little cunt. Fucking her, the bowl of popcorn overturned, the mess forgotten. Yeah, I was craving that. But I also knew I’d have it that night because now, Bebe Hall was mine. And I wasn’t letting go.
“I believe my next exhibition will be quite different,” I went on. “Because if it was up to me, I’d only have photos of her. She’s that incredible.”
A collective ‘aww’ went through the room, but I wasn’t done yet.
“So, in many ways,” I said. “What you are seeing today signifies my past. And my future is standing beside me. Without further ado, I’d like to show you my work.”
Everyone whooped, and several people in black outfits approached the canvases that were covered with sheets. On the count of three, they pulled the sheets down, revealing my work to the guests. There was complete silence, but the only reaction I cared about was Bebe’s.
I looked right into her face as she glanced around the room, letting go of the microphone. I saw how crestfallen she was, how much she hated it. The images of those women, naked, overlaid with all the things that signified them. She turned her hurt gaze to me, her bottom lip trembling, and I took her hand in mine. She let me take it reluctantly, and I led her to the biggest canvas, my masterpiece.
She gasped when she saw it and I smiled to myself.
It was a portrait of Bebe, one I’d taken months earlier. She had her arms in front of her body, hiding her naked tits. Her middle was visible, her sleek, taut stomach so sexy I wanted to lick it. The rest of her was covered in a rumpled white sheet. She had some hair in her face and was trying to pull it back, laughing as she did it and looking straight into the camera.
Just like all my other work, this one was a double exposure as well.
I’d struggled for months on what to pair with Bebe, but I knew I’d hit the nail on the head.
Her picture’s overlay was a photo she’d taken of me. Shirtless, with my hands extended protectively in front of me, shielding my face from everyone. Because she was a part of me. And I was a part of her. Together, we made a whole.
She looked at me, and her eyes were filled with tears.
“For you,” I said brokenly, and she gasped, running into my arms.
No other words needed to be said. We simply hugged, and the crowd cheered and applauded, but for once in my life, I didn’t give a shit. I wanted them all to see how much I loved this beautiful, stunning, exquisite girl. I wanted them to know how much I cared.
The next second, several people joined our hug and I laughed as I saw all the people joining us. Her parents, Arden’s parents, Nick, and finally, her best friend, the girl who’d been her rock these past few months, and who’d become such a staple in my apartment I always joked around I should just give her a key.
“I’m so proud of you!” Arden told me with a bright smile. “What a beautiful collection, and the centerpiece… Wow.”
We smiled at one another and I felt the genuine love coming from her. I liked this girl, a lot. She was as good for Bebe as she was for me. And her boyfriend was nice as well.
Bebe’s mom was so excited her cheeks were blushing fiercely, and her father kept clapping me on the back as he congratulated me. In that moment, surrounded by friends and family and my girl’s hand in mine, I felt complete.
For the first time in years, I didn’t feel alone.
One look into Bebe’s eyes… Those brown, beautiful pools of dirty little secrets and whispered promises.
And I was complete.
I pulled her against me, her body willingly bending against my own.
“You,” I breathed against her lips, not giving a shit who was watching. “You’ve changed my fucking life. And I’m never letting you go.”
“Miles,” she breathed.
“You need to be mine,” I said. “I want you to be mine completely. I want you to wear the sign of it. I want my baby in your fucking belly. I want my ring on your finger. I want you beside me. Now, and forever.”
She blinked the tears away as I dropped down to one knee, bringing out a little box from my pocket. The ring inside was something I’d gotten three months ago after she’d helped me clean out the dirty room, a week after my last bleach bath. I hadn’t taken one since.
It was platinum, with a big diamond because I knew my little magpie liked shiny things.
My anxiety was sky high. I could barely breathe. But I had to do this.
I popped the box open with shaky fingers and smiled at my girl.
“Will you make me the luckiest man alive?” I said.
“Yes,” she whispered, and I slipped the ring on her finger while the whole damn place cheered.
And for once in my life, I wanted them to see every last bit of it.
Because there was nothing more beautiful than the girl in front of me, my ring glistening on her finger as she threw herself around my shoulders.
Nothing more beautiful than us.
It was a rainy evening when I looked across the street and saw him. He was just a half-naked figure in the window, and I tried
not to look, but he sent my imagination on a chase for stories. Now, I’m pretty sure all he does is try on outfits and admire himself in the mirror, and yet, I’m still grateful for him, because he made me write Peep Show.
I have a number of people I’d like to thank.
First off, my boyfriend Tilen for being a part of me, for being the missing puzzle piece that makes me whole. Thank you for holding my hand. Thank you for leading the way.
I’d like to thank author besties Alessandra Hart and Jade West.
Alessa, you may not know it but sometimes, you’re the reason I get up. Because I get to talk to you. Because you get me. Because you have my back, and you’re the best friend a girl could wish for. Because you Photoshop my face onto camels and make me laugh even on the worst day. Because you’re YOU, and I love you.
Jade, what can I even say? From the moment you saw Peep Show’s cover, you’ve been supportive and kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always pushing me forward. I wouldn’t be this far without you, and you are my rock. Thank you.
To my editor, John Hudspith—how do you do it? How do you make my words this good? I’m forever envious of your talents.
And to the incredible Letitia Hasser who designed this cover—GIRL! I want to frame it it’s so beautiful.
OK, time to get mushy!
The stranger in the window made me touch a part of myself I don’t feel comfortable sharing. The part that’s afraid of anything and everyone. The voice in my head that tells me I’m too weak. Too fragile. The lonely girl I’ve kept hidden away because I’m afraid of her. With Peep Show, I’ve discovered her beauty. I’ve discovered her pain. And I’ve found a story inside it.
I’ve been emotionally invested in a book before, but I’ve never felt like this—like I’m pouring a piece of me, a piece I’m terrified of showing you, into words.
As I wrote Miles Reilly, I fell in love with him. And with it, I came to accept a part of me that I’d deemed damaged, broken. I came to realize it was something to battle, something to better, not something to be ashamed of.
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